


Stone Cold Fox

by EatYourSparkOut



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU in which they're spark-twins not just brothers, Alt-Mode Sexual Interfacing, Bondage, Collars, Dom/sub Undertones, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, Leashes, M/M, Muzzles, Pet Play, Praise Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Sibling Incest, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-08 00:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10374030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatYourSparkOut/pseuds/EatYourSparkOut
Summary: Minimus loves his brother, but sometimes he wishes it wasn’t so hard.He shows Dominus' alt-mode some appreciation, in an attempt to bridge the widening rift between them.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarlightCaptivator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fox's Sleep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10306268) by [StarlightCaptivator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/pseuds/StarlightCaptivator). 



> StarlightCaptivator has been softly killing me with her MinDom AU, and I figured that I ought to write something fun in order to encourage/enable her further >;3c
> 
> This takes place in a universe separate from her own, in which both Minimus and Dominus are aware of their status as spark-twins, and have already been interfacing/merging for a large portion of their lives. That doesn’t mean that these stubborn boys are any better at communicating though. *shakes them both*
> 
> Alternate title and summary, generously provided by StarlightCaptivator: 
> 
> Title: What does the fox say? Summary: The fox doesn't say anything because he's wearing a muzzle. 
> 
> Alternate _alternate _title: How To Train Your Turbofox__

Despite his very best efforts, Minimus had always harbored a small amount of resentment towards his twin. Objectively, he knew that it wasn’t Dominus fault. How could he be blamed for simply existing as he did—so very capable and committed to his cause, unwavering in both his convictions and character—for simply  _ being  _ better? It was simple fact, that Dominus was the worthier twin, the true representative of the House Ambus, and Minimus the one destined to chase after a functioning in a world he found almost unbearably difficult to navigate; safe only because of the status and protection Dominus had bestowed upon him.

Minimus could labor until the day he went offline, and never come close to measuring up to the stalwart figure that was his brother. His accomplishments in life were few, and they paled in comparison to even Dominus’ most meager achievements. It was not for lack of effort either, for Minimus  _ tried,  _ he really did. Dominus was merely... the superior twin — and Minimus had long since accepted that.

For even in a society which condemned his alt-mode — a society which made him out to be a lesser mechanism — Dominus had somehow managed to rise above. He carried the crushing weight of his deception with him everywhere he went, was forced to endure snide and ignorant remarks from those who wouldn’t even deign to speak with him if they knew, but he persevered. Minimus had never faced this particular obstacle, and yet while Dominus had overcome the very circumstances of his forging to excel, Minimus... was still nothing.

He loved his twin, and was proud of him, but it stung.

And so Minimus appreciated nights like this. In a way, they were an offering; the best his brother could do to bridge the ever-growing gap between them as their lives took such disparate paths. They were nights that Minimus cherished, even if he had never admitted so out loud.

At the same time, they also provided a means of catharsis for Dominus himself; a chance for him to shed the iron control demanded of him in the public eye, and allow someone to appreciate his alt-mode without the fear of ostracization.

Minimus had never even thought to judge. He knew very well that Dominus was no mechanimal—regardless of what the outside world insisted—and had accepted Dominus’ initial offer without a second thought. He’d been struck by the slight nervousness with which Dominus had approached him—so unusual for his brother, who had impeccable composure at the worst of times—and of course, later in the confines of his own quarters Minimus had been overwhelmed by anxiety of his own. Interface with his twin had always been satisfying, but Dominus was usually the one who took the lead, and the prospect of being so responsible for his brother’s pleasure — of being  _ in control _ _ — _ had been daunting.

Now, as he looked across the berth at Dominus from where he kneeled just out of reach in his irreducible form, Minimus allowed himself to savor the sight. He was glad that he hadn’t been so weak as to rescind his initial agreement, because it had been infinitely worth it.

The first time hadn’t gone terribly smoothly. Dominus had been inclined to rebellion, and Minimus not nearly confident enough in his ability to take care of his brother for a change. Practice had made perfect however, or rather, as close to perfection as Minimus would allow himself to claim.

Unfortunately, Dominus was still prone to squirming. It was frustrating for Minimus, who wanted everything to be  _ just so,  _ and he had found early on that tying Dominus up circumvented that problem.

Tonight’s chosen method had Dominus sitting on his haunches, forelimbs planted on the berth in front of him, where they were securely bound to his hind legs. It was a simple solution, but it restricted his movement enough for Minimus’ purposes. The cables crossed beneath him, and wound around Dominus’ spike in a way that meant excess movement would put pressure on it, and it was by far the most effective way he’d found to keep him still.

Minimus took a long moment to admire the aesthetics of the scene. A specially designed muzzle inhibited Dominus’ transformation sequence so that there was no chance of him reverting to root mode. It had the added benefit of keeping his vocalizer offline—or rather, keeping him from accessing his words—as he could still whine and pant to his spark’s content. He had access across the bond if he needed to broadcast genuine distress or displeasure. After all, Minimus had no desire to truly harm his brother. And of course, the delicate black cage left just enough room for Dominus’ glossa to slither out if Minimus decided to make use of it.

He was also outfitted with a leash and collar, both of which would certainly be seeing some use later. The cherry red color popped against Dominus’ muted silver plating, and Minimus knew that the snug leather probably felt exquisite; organic materials were expensive for a reason — even more so since the council had begun regulating such items due to a distaste for their origins.

Dominus craved the security of the collar — and the freedom from what was expected of him in his taxing day-to-day life — but what Minimus loved most of all was stripping him of his control. Seeing his brother come apart beneath his servos was nearly akin to a religious experience for him.

His optics drifted down to what was arguably the most important piece of the ensemble. A spike ring sat snugly at the base of Dominus’ spike — where his knot would swell under normal circumstances.  If it were any other time Minimus would have already permitted his brother to press him down into the berth — in whatever form he chose —and l et Dominus tie him until they were both sated...

He shivered. Yes, those nights were appealing in their own right, but that wasn’t what tonight was about. Tonight was about seeing how long he could keep Dominus teetering on the edge of overload, how long it would take him to reduce his twin to almost feral desperation. By the looks of things, they were already halfway there.

The process of binding Dominus tonight had been a lengthy one—not because Minimus was incapable, but because he enjoyed the intricacies involved in tying the ropes — and had taken great pleasure in making sure each one was meticulously placed. The tantalizing slide of the cables across Dominus’ plating, and in-between his joints had done an excellent job of igniting — and intensifying — his arousal.

Dominus’ spike lay thick and heavy beneath him, but the bindings left him helpless to do anything more than wriggle minutely, seeking relief where there was none. Minimus tracked the way his tail swished across the berth in agitation with immense satisfaction, but the way that Dominus’ stared at him in desperation — optics dim and glassy, and panting to vent the excess heat that his fans couldn’t handle— _ that  _ was the cause of the thrill which shot up Minimus’ spinal strut, and the heat which curled around his spark.

Drool ran from the side of Dominus’ mouth and normally Minimus would have despaired at the mess, but in this case his brother’s complete obliviousness regarding his own state only made Minimus’ fans cycle higher. This was the culmination of  _ his  _ efforts after all; he was the one responsible for Dominus’ current incognizance.

He finally took pity on his twin, and moved closer to where he could stroke the turbofox’s plating — which had puffed out in an effort to vent the excess heat. Minimus raked his fingers gently down the expanse of Dominus’ chest, and he whined lowly in response. He tucked his head into Minimus’ own, burying his nose in his armor. Whether he sought contact, or comfort, or merely his twin’s scent Minimus wasn’t sure, but he permitted the action as it allowed him to feel the minute trembling which had overtaken Dominus’ frame.

Minimus took his time with his brother, stroking every inch of plating available to him — except where Dominus wanted it most. He petted along the curve of the fox’s spine with firm caresses that drew trails of charge in their wake. He ran his fingers lightly — reverently even — over the quivering ears, which twitched into his touch. He dug his fingers under the larger plates of Dominus’ throat, and wormed his way down to seldom-touched sensors until he was practically writhing.

Dominus’ field lashed around them in a heady swirl of arousal and gratitude, and Minimus took a moment to intertwine it with his own, allowing his own appreciation and affection to permeate the air.

“You’re beautiful,” Minimus admitted, though even now his plating burned slightly in saying it.

Displays of emotion had never been his forte, and complimenting his brother had always felt dangerously like a confession. As to what  _ kind  _ of confession—well that was something he didn’t wish to dwell upon. Nevertheless, the stark praise from his twin had Dominus melting further into Minimus’ frame.

“Seeing you like this is more compelling than you will ever know,” Minimus murmured, “but I need you to stay still for me, brother.”  

Dominus whined again — too far gone to do anything else — but he obediently craned his neck, even lifting the plating farther so that Minimus could resume scratching at deep-set sensors. Dominus locked his joints the best he could, and it was a valiant effort on his part, but Minimus could still see the helpless twitching of hid hips with every curl of his fingers, and the way his spike had begun to drool onto the berth in what must have been agonizing arousal. 

He couldn't even  _ begin  _ to imagine anyone finding Dominus repellant like this. It sparked a brief flash of anger in him, but he pushed it away; he wouldn’t allow anything to taint this moment. This was theirs — it was  _ his. _

Minimus finally took him in hand; he wrapped fingers around the leaking spike and squeezed gently. Dominus practically choked on his arousal — field flooding with undeniably painful ecstasy — and Minimus thumbed at the head, rubbing deliberately at the mess leaking from the tip. 

Dominus’ spike almost burned with the attention, and released even more prefluid in response. When he was certain his twin had climbed as high as the inhibitor would allow — when the jerks of his hips and vocalizations had become well and truly distressed — that was when Minimus pulled away entirely.

Dominus nearly  _ howled _ at the loss, and Minimus’ array gave an insistent throb that left him briefly weak. He wouldn't have enjoyed this if Dominus were in real pain, but it’d become clear to him after many such experiences that his brother truly loved this little indulgence of his, and he burned all the hotter for it.

“Perhaps one day we’ll be able to try this without the inhibitor,” suggested Minimus. He’d learnt much since their first attempts, but Dominus still didn’t have the control necessary to keep from overloading far before the edge that Minimus strived for. 

His brother’s ears flattened against his head in contrition, but still he tried to rub his spike against the mesh covers of the berth. It was largely in vain, for he was too wary of the cables.

“Dominus! Behave,” Minimus snapped, and Dominus stilled, his dim optics attempting to focus on his twin as he keened guiltily, and kneaded at the berth with sharp claws. He pulled in on himself, making himself smaller in an attempt to appease his brother. 

Minimus paid him no mind.

The ache behind his own panels had become too pressing to ignore. Not to mention, the slide of the built-up lubricant behind his cover had long since passed bearable, and was now approaching excessively irritating. It served its purpose certainly, but at the moment the slick squelch was more an annoyance than a great help.

Minimus permitted his covers to slide back ,  and the lubricant ran down his thighs in rivulets, but it was preferable to keeping it trapped in his array. Dominus’ highly attuned senses meant that he had undoubtedly been able to smell Minimus’ arousal since the very beginning, and he imagined that this exposure was nearly overwhelming. 

As predicted, Dominus stared at his bared equipment, and panted hungrily, but Minimus was nowhere close to letting him have his fill. He would have to suffer for a while longer.

Instead, he wrapped his hand around his own spike; he was only slightly self-conscious—Dominus’ obvious desire did a fair amount for his self-esteem—and he began to stroke slowly, allowing his overload to build gradually.

When Minimus felt the tell-tale signs of the approaching release, he allowed his other hand to drift to his neglected node. The soft moan that escaped his lips as he pressed firmly against it caused Dominus’ vents to hitch. His ears were straining forward, intent on capturing every precious sound.

Minimus reached for Dominus’ spike once more, much to his twin’s relief. He stroked them both to the very edge twice again—each time backing off to allow Dominus to cool down, and his brother made his inner turmoil quite clear with the way he whined piteously.

Minimus enjoyed edging, and if he cared to analyze that further he supposed he might draw conclusions from the fact that it allowed him to control every aspect of his pleasure—as opposed to  _ other  _ aspects of his life—but regardless, he had always thought that the best overloads were the ones gained through restraint.

Dominus was doing his best to grit through Minimus’ ministrations, but the plating of his spike had begun to flare out, lifting up as though to grip the mesh walls of a non-existent valve. Minimus knew exactly how... stimulating... those ridges were, but there was no valve, and the spike ring wouldn’t allow a knot to form no matter how much Dominus’ body willed it.

He’d been forced into a sort of limbo — unable to overload, but beginning to experience the hypersensitivity of an actual tie.

Minimus massaged the spike, this time maneuvering between the flared plates to prod at newly exposed wires, and Dominus  _ howled.  _ He thrashed in his bindings, and this time they did constrict. His claws dug into the berth, and his back arched as much as the cables would allow — trying his best to thrust into Minimus’ servo — but he gained no traction. Minimus relished the sight.

The sheer  _ elegance _ of his brother’s alt-mode twisted in pleasure stilled his vents—and really, how could the functionists see anything less than perfection in this?

“Patience,” Minimus breathed. He was a mech of few words, and that more often than not extended to the berthroom. He saw fit only to speak when it truly mattered, for in the silence he could appreciate every reaction he dragged from his brother. It made every command — every compliment given — hold that much more weight.

Minimus continued like this until he reached the very edge of Dominus’ tolerance. He had learned where that breaking point lay — where the pain outweighed the rapture of the ensuing overload — and as his brother’s whines turned  _ truly  _ desperate he stopped yet again. This time however, it was to undo the cables which bound Dominus so thoroughly.

“Stay there,” Minimus commanded him, as he began the task of freeing his twin from the intricate bindings. He knew exactly the manner in which to undo them most efficiently—practice had streamlined the routine—and in no time they were falling from Dominus’ trembling limbs, settling inconspicuously on the berth as though they hadn't just been part of the most blissful torture of Dominus’ life. The spike inhibitor soon followed.

Minimus took the leash in hand, and wrapped the length around his servo so as to achieve an optimal grip. When he tugged downwards on the collar, Dominus settled onto his stomach obediently, no command needed. He wriggled, no doubt savoring the friction of the berth mesh against his spike.

“You’re doing excellently,” Minimus informed him softly, and it was true. As always, he was impressed by the strength of Dominus’ forbearance, and exemplary work deserved reward. Dominus looked at him in adoration, tail swishing weakly against the berth, and glossa nearly lolling out of his mouth.

Minimus’ valve cycled down in anticipation. Even  _ his  _ self-control had begun to be tested by the steady arousal permeating this entire encounter. He turned and positioned himself on his servos and knees with little ceremony, shifted down so that he could brace himself on his elbows, and then he gave a light tug on the leash.

“Come on then,” Minimus encouraged — voice impressively steady considering the shiver which had just raced across his circuits. His plating tingled at the prospect of  _ finally _ feeling Dominus inside of him, past experiences with that gratifying spike at the forefront of his mind.

Dominus needed no other coaxing. Between the extended teasing, and the enticing sight of the valve presented to him, he was more than ready. He lunged forward — scrabbling up Minimus as though he truly were a wild turbofox in heat, and not his beloved spark-twin. He braced himself on Minimus’s shoulders, heavy weight settling comfortingly on top of him.

Minimus barely had time to acknowledge the surge in his spark at the knowledge of what was to come, before Dominus was pressing in. Minimus gasped at the slightly rough entry, but his fingers clutched at the berth as the ridges he’d been admiring earlier bore down on what felt like every node in his valve. He was never truly prepared for how exquisite the stretch was.

_ I must have been more affected than I thought,  _ observed Minimus dazedly.

His nodes were swollen and crackling with charge, every scrape of Dominus’ spike making him almost delirious with pleasure. The pace was frantic; Dominus barely cognizant of his own actions as he chased the long overdue overload. Minimus noted once again that desperation appeared to make Dominus just a little bit wild. He collapsed farther on the berth, and his brother pressed his advantage, but prodigious spike or not,  _ Minimus  _ was the one in control.

He yanked the leash down with a fair amount of force, and Dominus’ pace faltered.

“You will _ not  _ overload before I do,” Minimus gritted out, and Dominus growled in response, but he increased the depth of his thrusts — making sure to bump against Minimus’ ceiling node with every snap of his hips. Minimus didn't let up on the leash, dragging them both down farther into the berth as Dominus took his pleasure from his twin’s more than willing frame.

Despite Minimus’ best efforts, small gasps and trembling moans escaped his lips intermittently, and he arched against his brother in an attempt to drive him deeper. Dominus nosed into the nape of Minimus’ neck — unable to bite and stake his claim with the muzzle in the way — but no doubt inhaling Minimus’ scent as he drove him nearly dizzy with pleasure.

Minimus was achingly close to overload, and Dominus’ spike had begun to flare once more, catching on internal mesh as the resistance built. Minimus felt the knot begin to stir, and it took every inch of his self-discipline to keep from begging. When the knot swelled in its entirely the ridges all along Dominus’ spike helped anchor them together; it trapped the head of the spike against Minimus’ ceiling node where it could prod insistently. He tried not to sob, but one more small thrust which  _ tugged  _ on his calipers was enough to drag him over that blissful edge.

Minimus shook in his rapture; luxuriated in the unparalleled feeling of being tied to his brother, at being  _ stretched  _ so thoroughly, and claimed—something that his coding insisted was  _ right.  _ Dominus snarled as he overloaded inside of him, and the flood of hot transfluid against Minimus’ oversensitized nodes triggered another small one of his own.

“Good boy,” he gasped, and Dominus sagged on top of him with a delighted whine, hips still moving weakly as he continued to pump Minimus full of transfluid. They collapsed to the berth still intertwined, and rode out the remainder of Dominus’ convulsions together. Occasionally a more powerful spasm would cause Dominus to jerk, the lock between them ensuring that every ecstatic release further filled Minimus’ chamber.

Even, in the midst of his euphoria, Minimus couldn’t help but curse inwardly at his brother.

_ For being so composed all the time, for your endless admirers, for making me covet you when we well know that we can’t be together in the public eye, for making me love you— _

Minimus bit the sheets in front of him, in order to halt the whimper which arose as one final thrust sent the largest wave of heat yet cascading across his nodes — pulling him into yet another blinding release. His valve clenched around Dominus like a vice, and his brother was quite vocal about his appreciation — burrowing closer to press every inch of his plating against Minimus’.

Eventually, they simply lay there, exhausted, but sated. Dominus was heavy, and Minimus did his best to shift them to their sides where his twin could curl up against his back as they waited for the knot to subside. Minimus felt exceedingly full—in the achingly good way that he had come to savor after Dominus tied him in any form. A small part of him envisioned a reality where the two of them could stay like this forever, undisturbed by the rest of the world.

But that was not to be, and after a time they had to separate. Minimus was careful not to cause Dominus any undue discomfort as he pulled off of his spike, and he reached into his subspace for a clean cloth. Dominus blinked blearily — whining lowly in the back of his throat — but Minimus placed a comforting servo on his helm, and rubbed gently at his cheek to soothe him.

Dominus didn’t like to be relieved of his trappings so soon after a session like this, and so Minimus focused on cleaning him up — murmuring soft words all the while to assure his brother that he wasn’t going to leave. His fastidious nature meant that Dominus would not leave this room less than gleaming, and he ran the clothing along his plating in comforting circles as he worked. Dominus rose to a seated position, and allowed Minimus to complete his task without complaint — even leaning into the touch.

When Minimus was finished he hesitated briefly, but then wrapped his arms around what he could reach — embracing his twin tightly. Dominus buried his head in Minimus shoulder, and his spark flared in response. They remained like this for a time, but finally he shifted to unclip the collar from around Dominus’ neck, and then moved on to remove the muzzle.

Though he had access to his extensive vocabulary once more, Dominus didn’t try to speak. He shook himself slightly — plating shifting to a more comfortable arrangement after being compressed for so long — and then he nosed under Minimus’ throat. The slick warmth of a glossa sliding against his wires sent another rush of affection through Minimus’ lines. Dominus delicately lapped at his cables a few times, huffing his approval, and then sat back again — this time to transform back to root mode.

Now Dominus  _ did  _ look as if he wished to say something; his optics had regained some of their usual intensity, and Minimus waited patiently, his field blank and open. Instead, Dominus surprised him by leaning forward and sweeping him into a deep kiss.

There was gratitude there — and also affection — and a plethora of other things Minimus didn’t want to name. Minimus had always been fascinated by kisses — by the feelings which such a simple act could provoke. Unconsciously, his chest plates loosened, allowing a small crack of sparklight to shine through and illuminate the two of them. Dominus stilled briefly, but then sighed into Minimus’ mouth, and his own chestplates shifted to reveal his own spark.

If Minimus hadn’t been so preoccupied with the firm press of lip plates — with the smooth glide of a glossa against his own, and the hint of sweet energon (Dominus had been  _ indulging  _ himself again—probably in anticipation of tonight) overlaying the sharp metallic taste which was wholly his brother’s, then he might have been more concerned.

Instead, Minimus lamented that from this angle he couldn’t admire Dominus’ spark. He knew its appearance intimately — a vibrant green as strong, and steady, and reliable as its owner—but they hadn’t merged in so  _ long  _ now ,  a fact that delivered an intense pang of regret — both at his own obstinacy and Dominus’ distance. He would have liked to savor this glimpse, and commit it to memory in case the possibility of repeating this was nothing but fleeting hope on his part. After all, why should things change now?

Then he did panic briefly, for if they merged Dominus would see the bitterness he’d been harboring in his spark — see the growing resentment which shamed Minimus so deeply.

Still, the gentle press of Dominus’ denta as he tugged at Minimus’ lip affectionately, and the comforting field which enveloped him— _ that  _ was what won the battle, and he opened his sparkchamber the instant Dominus deepened the kiss.

Their joining was  _ divine.  _ Minimus had been robbed of this feeling for so long that he had nearly forgotten how utterly perfect it was. When their sparks slid and merged into one it was as if the universe were falling into place.  _ This  _ was how it was supposed to be. As the merge took hold, and their sparks intertwined and danced around one another, Minimus lamented the fact that they had both put this off for so long. How foolish, to deny themselves the opportunity to be whole once more.

Dominus saw his bitterness, and Minimus drew away in shame because his emotional transgressions tainted what should have been a joyous encounter — but Dominus chased after him in firm refusal of the retreat. Minimus pressed back against his mind desperately, wanting to show Dominus that he would do anything to not harbor that small, dark feeling in the corner of his spark — nurtured by an uncaring world which found him distasteful, and useless, and odd on account of his many idiosyncrasies.

He could have wept at the calm understanding which flowed across their rejuvenated bond. It was tinged with sadness, but Dominus merely wound an arm around Minimus’ back to draw him closer. He knew, he understood, and he apologized in the only way he knew how. Matters of the spark had never been easy for them, save when it came to the  _ actual  _ spark, and it was clear that their reluctance to merge had only intensified the strain on their relationship.

Minimus sighed into the kiss, which had turned languid and so unbearably tender that his entire frame tingled in response. He pushed all of the earnest affection and admiration he felt for his brother in an attempt to compensate for the unseemly thoughts, and it was returned tenfold.

_ Strong, beautiful, and deserving of so much more _ , Dominus insisted.

Minimus couldn’t quite bring himself to agree, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless, and though Dominus clearly would have preferred that Minimus see himself as he did, he resignedly accepted that this was all he could give at the moment. Instead, Dominus turned his attention to intensifying the growing pleasure between them.

Minimus spark swelled with the new flood of love and affection and  _ bliss  _ being directed his way, and he did his very best to return the favor, until both of them were quivering. This push-and-pull was so very familiar, and he had missed it even more than he’d known. 

At some point they had stopped kissing, and now as they melted into one another, they simply rested their foreheads together. Minimus did his best to meet his brother’s optics, though the ecstasy gripping his spark made it extremely difficult to focus. Dominus seemed to be having similar problems, though he too made a valiant effort to watch as Minimus’ expression twisted in near-delirious rapture.

Finally, Minimus could hold out no longer, and Dominus swallowed the drawn-out moan with another kiss. His spark flared, dragging him down into a heady overload — one which rolled through his systems slowly, and could have been called gentle if not for the thoroughness with which it gripped his frame. 

Dominus cried out as his own spark convulsed, and the surge of his twin’s overload carried Minimus even higher. They floated in that euphoric state for what felt like ages — caught in a double feedback loop across the bond which refused to let them come down from this most transcendent of joinings — and when they finally did, Minimus felt the loss deeply.

They remained connected for some time after; the intense pleasure had abated ,  but left in its place the opportunity to simply relish the feeling of completeness. For a few precious moments they were one, and Minimus knew true tranquility.

Of course, the feeling couldn’t last forever, and it was with extreme reluctance that they finally disengaged. Minimus felt vulnerable in a way he hadn’t for a very long time, and after the merge had been broken he was quick to close his chestplates. Dominus followed suit.

Minimus drew in a long breath to steady himself. He felt as though he should say something, but as usual he was at a loss for words. Thankfully, his brother was more up to the task.

“Minimus,” Dominus began, and then he merely looked at him for a long moment, seemingly overcome with sentiment. His stoic mask had all but vanished. “I’ll try harder,” he finished softly. 

Minimus made no response. He was staring at the berth, overcome by a multitude of emotions, and he felt as though if he answered Dominus now he might break the spell which had descended upon the room. He cared so much that it pained him, and yet he didn’t trust his ability to articulate those feelings without ruining this precious moment.

Dominus gently took him by the chin, and tilted Minimus’ head up so as to meet his optics. Minimus was once again struck by the sheer intensity; that one bot could be so outwardly reserved, and yet contain so much burning conviction within, was something which had always mesmerized him.

“I love you brother, and I always will,” insisted Dominus lowly. The hand on his chin dropped to his chest, to press against where his spark still pulsed fervently.

The statement made Minimus want to turn his head away once more, but he was ultimately unable to — caught by Dominus’ beseeching optics ,  and unwilling to disappoint him, even though his plating burned furiously. He reached up with a shaking servo, and placed it on top of Dominus’, curling his fingers so that they interlaced with his.

“I know,” Minimus whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder his vocalizer would give out entirely.

Dominus pulled him into his embrace once again, and led them to lie down on the berth. They ended up face to face, spark to spark, with limbs intertwined. It was Minimus’ turn to borrow into his brother’s armor, and he inhaled the sharp scent of ozone—lingering evidence of Dominus’ pleasure—and the underlying metal which was all his brother.

Tomorrow he would have to face the world once more, but in this moment it was just the two of them, and there was nothing more important than the rhythmic beating of his twin’s spark, and his soothing field. It was here in the security of Dominus’ frame that Minimus found the courage to speak up.

_ Dominus,  _ he sent over their revitalized bond, and his brother hummed sleepily in response. Their sessions always took a great deal out of him, and the sparkmerge had undoubtedly exacerbated things.

“I love you too,” Minimus professed softly.

Though he had already known—the depth of Minimus’ adoration had been transparent during the merge—Dominus’ spark fluttered in response. His grip on Minimus’ armor tightened briefly, and he pulled him closer despite the little room left between them.

Minimus was content.

**Author's Note:**

> Mindom has honestly ruined me?? and I hope I did them justice. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this, then I highly recommend you go check out Fox’s Sleep! You won’t regret it~  
> 


End file.
